


Pegged

by grayorca, YearwalktheWorld



Series: Skynet: 900 [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Wings, Angst, Drama, Gen, Platonic Relationships, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Has a Different Name, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 15:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17870225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayorca/pseuds/grayorca, https://archiveofourown.org/users/YearwalktheWorld/pseuds/YearwalktheWorld
Summary: Wings AU. Even the most advanced flier isn’t that resilient.





	Pegged

**Author's Note:**

> Just your basic Gavin/Nines H/C.
> 
> Only with our version of Nines AKA Noah.
> 
> Spoilers for _Skynet_.

It didn’t matter how deviant one was or wasn’t. Some androids were simply more prone to boasting about their skills than others. Like how Dennis kept mastering pattern after pattern of origami, arranging them on the desk like a set of trophies, or what niche combination of tricks Nick had managed to teach Sumo, recording every expo to later share with the squad, or that Connor never flaunted his case-closure rate anywhere else except within range of a virgin ear who hadn’t heard it ten times already.

Long story short, Noah knew deviancy had everything and nothing to do with how accomplished a flier he was. He was good, but by no means the best there ever was. To date, he also knew he had been extremely fortunate to not suffer any major aerial mishaps. He always stuck the landing. He never missed a target. His once-experimental tern wings were proving their own worth, day by day.

He would even go so far as to say the sarcastic smiles Gavin Reed was paying him after every arrest were almost genuine. Things seemed to be on the up-and-up.

Then he ran afoul of his first raptor-winged shoplifting suspect with a rarely-seen kestrel configuration.

——-

_“All units, be advised - 10-87, aerial pursuit in progress, southbound on - ”_

Yadda yadda yadda. Another day at the office, it sounded like.

Not like they didn't get enough calls about some punk flying without a permit, and he got to just drive along for the ride while Noah did all the heavy… flying. Was that what he would say? Eh, not like it really mattered.

“Looks like another day of adventure, huh? Can't wait for this one.” Least the android realized when he was being sarcastic, by now. That had been a rough couple days, having to explain himself over and over again. Canner’s little(st) brother was only marginally sharper when it came to telling literal from metaphorical.

But he was a speedy thing when he took to the air, at least.

Gavin didn't mind that. In fact, he sort of enjoyed it. Meant he got to put the sirens on and pull some sort of high speed chase from the ground, right? Even if it was just him following along as always, there was always some sort of thrill in it. Most of the automated traffic heeded the sound without issue. Suddenly, like he were some kind of momentary royalty, the streets belonged to him.

But then the blasted suspect just had to detour into a Downtown construction site.

Not like he could barrel into there, could he? …Well, maybe he could. But that would be breaking more laws than even Gavin was comfortable with. Fuck, he was really gonna have to wait and see if Noah managed to take him down in the construction site or not, wasn't he? Or, best case scenario, flush them out?

He lost sight of them as first one, then both sets of wings darted into the half-finished side of the corporate building. It almost had him worried. Nines was quick, but was he agile enough to pull of that kind of close-quarters chase?

Automated as dispatch was, he got the answer he dreaded about fifteen seconds later.

_“Aerial unit down. Repeat, 10-13A, aerial unit #313 248- ”_

Leaving his car straddling the curb, Gavin flashed his badge at the gate and shouted for directions to the nearest freight lift.

——-

He hadn’t seen the tines of the forklift before he rounded the corner, turning a hairpin turn so tight he felt feathers brushing the floor and ceiling in tandem. The kestrel-winged deviant wheeled aside with pinpoint-precise timing in order to avoid clipping into them.

Noah might have stopped to admire the maneuver, but he was not so fortunate.

Processors racing, accounting for every mathematical probability and factors attributing to them, he miscalculated. Instead of jigging right, left wing raised to avoid the collision, the chances showed up as inverted. He leveled out, hoping the split second it took to readjust was enough of a gap for him to miss the tine.

Colliding at full speed, the metacarpal strut promptly snapped. The outstretched primaries folded into a useless, dangling mess.

More alarming was the sudden loss of lift. Looking past the flood of error windows obscuring his vision, his right wing flared out on automatic, trying to bring his airspeed down, increase the likelihood of a successful landing.

Barreling ahead at speed, he could only tuck, roll, and hope for the best. No chance he would get his feet under himself without fracturing both shins. The alternative wouldn’t be pretty, but better one broken, replaceable appendage than three or four.

So intent on his readouts, Noah made his second mistake. Wings in, he unintentionally dove headlong over the jagged edge of the unfinished floor in the process.

The upturned rebar snagged him on the way by.

——-

The suspect was long gone, having all of the open sky to escape toward, and the hardhats working the site - an equally-useless mix of human and android - gave him at least five different sets of directions, trying to find the floor the crash beacon was emanating from. At least twice the freight lift doors opened to nothing.

The third time they opened, it was to a messy, sizable streak of thirium adorning the concrete floor. That it was visible at all said the android to have lost it spilled a lot over a short period of time.

“Fuckin’ - where are you?” Gavin hissed under his breath, trying his hardest not to seem as panicked as he actually was. If Noah had gone and gotten himself seriously hurt… well, someone would have hell to pay for that. And the blue blood meant there was a good chance he would indeed need to dish out some punishment.

He stepped into the space, gun drawn, not pausing to take anything in before attempting to follow the trail. “Dude? You better be okay.”

What began as several loose puddles eventually grew thicker, wider, closer together. Following the path from beginning to sloppy end, he spotted a scuffed-up pair of shoes lying in a shallow pool of lost blood. The blue-splattered body they were presently attached to lay crumpled on its front, splayed facedown, wings bent askew. The left rested twisted around on itself, with its tattered, blue-stained feathers pointed upward into the air. The right lay flat against the floor, apparently no worse for wear.

Rough landing was an understatement. Whatever the damage, however it’d been caused, Noah had managed to roll to a stop.

Fuck. Weren’t such tactics supposed to minimize the chances of serious injury?

“Noah!” Letting out another hiss, Gavin rushed over to him, getting to his knees once he was close enough, trying to ignore the faint splash they made in the spilled blood. The fuck was he supposed to do, check his pulse? How the hell was he supposed to - what, tell if he was online or not? Should he move him? “Are you fuckin’ - dude, tell me what to do. I don't know shit.”

Face against the floor, one pinned arm cradling his leaking torso, Noah’s squinting eyes eventually flickered up to try and focus on him. Blinking in time with the pulses broadcast by the crash beacon, the android’s strobing LED went momentarily solid, spinning fast as he tried to register the sound of his partner’s voice. Half of his abrasion-covered visage came away stained blue as he tried to lift his head up.

“St-top p-pa-paniCk-k-king.”

“Aw, shit, I change my mind. Stop talkin’.”

Okay, maybe he _was_ panicking. But just a little bit. How could he not? His partner was pretty much in a pile of his own broken parts, bleeding like a stuck pig, voice glitching the hell out from whatever part of it was smashed. Even the most hardened policeman ever would be rattled to see the rookie they were paired with in such a state.

Because, state-of-the-art or not, that’s what Noah was: a rookie.

“I'll try to, uh - I'll get Connor or someone on the phone, they'll tell me what to do. You just - stay.”

As if he could leave, much less pull himself up.

Pinched eyelids relaxing, Noah only stared at him. His artificial respiration sounded piqued and raspy. His LED resumed blinking. The expression didn’t broadcast any ironic annoyance. Worse than that, in spite of looking like a wreck, his eyes didn’t communicate discomfort as a human would have. He was way too damn calm and detached-looking to be lying in a growing pool of his hemorrhaging body fluids.

Maybe that was the android equivalent of shock - to draw inward and assess the damage, without all the melodrama of screaming and writhing in pain.

Gavin almost would have preferred Noah did the latter. It would be significantly less creepy.

Fishing his phone out of his pocket, Gavin almost regretted not having any of the other RKs as contacts. But that would just invite any of them to think they were on friendlier terms than they actually were. Against his ‘better’ judgment, he had memorized Connor's private phone number, in the case of some fuckin’ emergency.

Well, this definitely qualified, Gavin would say.

The line didn’t ring but half an octave before the blessedly-helpful voice answered. _“Yes, Detective?”_

Somewhere past all the fragmented inputs and error messages, Noah seemed to discern just who was being called. His sensors weren’t half as dead as his partner mistook them for being, including the wireless-ident program. He knew without being told. Sucking in a watery-sounding breath, half aspirating the same thirium dribbling from his nose, he strained to pick his head up again.

“Guh-GahVin-in.”

Shit. What did he just say about no talking?

“Shut up,” Reed held the phone away from him for a second, shaking his head at Noah. “I really fuckin’ hate the sound of you garglin’ your own blood, okay?”

Looking almost abashed, the android promptly shut his mouth, with a very self-conscious glance down at his ruined frame. The hand and sleeve clasped against his chest were almost soaked through to a solid, dark blue.

 _“Blood?”_ Connor’s voice sounded small and tinny over the phone’s speaker. _“Detective, what’s happening? Do you require assistance?”_

“Yeah, I sure fuckin’ do,” Gavin snapped, before forcing himself to calm down, pulling the phone closer to his ear again. “Noah is goddamn bleeding out or somethin’, he crash landed onto - what is this, cement? Great. Pretty sure one of his wings are toast, God knows what else.”

Hearing him describe the damage in such nonspecific detail must have bothered Noah. Swallowing thickly, he tried to push himself up. His free hand wasn’t as worse off as the rest of him, but it trembled noticeably at the weight being placed on it.

 _“What’s your location?”_ Despite what worry he was immediately feeling, Connor stuck to the business at hand. Within seconds, he answered his own question. _“The emergency beacon, Downtown? Dennis and I can be there in five minutes.”_

“Stop moving,” he hissed at Noah first, before turning his attention back to the conversation with Connor. “Yeah, that one. Five minutes? I don't know if I'm being clear enough, then - Noah looks like he's about to fuckin’ _die_. Finally meet rA9 or some shit, you gotta get here quicker.”

_“We’re already out the door, Detective. You’re going to have to stabilize him, slow the bleeding. Where is he damaged?”_

Noah was apparently thinking along the same lines. His intact right wing scraped along the floor as he painstakingly rose up, then clumsily attempted to roll over said wing, pulling it in to fold against his back. His broken left wing dragged, twisted and flopped like a weather-battered kite.

“If you're tellin’ me I'm about to perform first aid on him…” Trailing off, Gavin couldn't think of a good threat to use. He was too busy trying to pinpoint just exactly the where's and how's of the situation. “Okay, uh… shit. Lookin’ like his left wing is pretty much gone to shit, I'm sure he's all cracked up inside as well.”

_“The wing is a non-vital component, Gavin. It looks bad, but it isn’t crucial to his life-support functions. You need to ascertain the source of the bleeding, stop it if you can.”_

Flopping over onto his back, making the painstaking change in position under his own steam, Noah vented a short cough as if to illustrate the point. Blue mist gusted from his mouth. His hand and forearm remained braced against the broadside of his chest.

“Uh… okay. I'm gonna move your hand, Noah, if you don't. That's where you’re hurtin’? Nod, no speaking.” Reaching over with one hand, Gavin let it hover in front of his chest, giving the android a moment to see if he would actually move it himself or not. “This better not be some fucking - computer gore.”

With the same detached gaze as before, Noah spared him a wary glare before loosening the deathgrip on his soaked jacket. Shakily, he pulled the open flap aside to reveal a ragged tear in the once-black shirt beneath.

Pressure off, a new pulse of thirium welled up through the fabric. The shiny, wet substance smelled vaguely of copper and ozone.

_“Gavin? Are you there? Can you see it? Is the injury a puncture or a laceration?”_

“Okay, give me a second here, dude,” Gavin muttered, phone pinched between his cheek and shoulder, gingerly trying to examine the injury for what it was. Fuck, he was gonna need to put some pressure on that, and soon. “Uh… lookin’ pretty deep to me. Good fucking gash he's got on him.”

_“A construction site like that, there are any number of hazards he may have snagged on the way down. Open his shirt. You’re going to have to look under the pectoral panels.”_

Now that _really_ wasn’t awkward at all.

“Oh, fun.” Giving an eyeroll, Gavin did as told as quickly as he could, simply raising an eyebrow at Noah before ripping it open. The buttons gave easily. Hey, wasn't like the shirt could be saved after this mess, huh? “You wanna help me out here? I gotta look under your - pectoral panels. Connor's orders.”

Resigned to the plan, whatever his feelings on the matter, Noah only scoffed in disdain, LED still blinking away. The false skin of his torso flickered and glitched, melting away to reveal scratched, warped plastic beneath. The worst of the damage was one lime-sized hole above and to the left of his ‘sternum’.

_“Two inches down from the center of the - collarbone, press with two fingertips. That ought to trigger the locks to release, if he can’t do it himself.”_

“Yeah, we won't even test that out. I got this.” Placing his fingers at the center of Noah's ‘collarbone’, Gavin trailed them down two inches before pressing down.

The panels clicked compliantly, retracting to either side to reveal the maze of wires, tubes, and metallic organs arranged in layers beneath. Ruptured thirium had already pooled in normally-hollow places around the ventilation system.

Noah’s expression finally betrayed some distress. Innards exposed to the open air, he craned his head up to look, before abruptly letting it fall back with a soft whine. His eyes clamped shut, LED flaring a solid red.

_“We’re two minutes out, Gavin. What’s the damage?”_

Gavin almost dropped his phone. “Ah, fuck. He has some type of hole already down in there, wires and tubes and shit. There's fuckin’ blue blood everywhere, I can't - he's hurting. Get here faster, I don't know what to do.”

_“Find the ruptured line and pinch it. Wherever the bleeding is emanating from, you need to stop it so his systems can temporarily reroute the flow. They need your input - the pressure of the clamp - to know which line to seal off.”_

At least Connor spared them the usual objection of androids not being able to experience pain. There wasn’t time enough for it.

“Okay, okay.” Giving Noah a sympathetic look, Gavin took a closer glance at the inside of his flooded chest cavity, trying to find just where he was bleeding from. Turns out it wasn't too hard - he just had to find the breach in a line, where all the blue blood was piling out from. Reluctantly, he set the phone aside. “Okay, Noah, I'm gonna… have to reach into your chest, dude. Just a heads up.”

One eye opened at him in a squint, then closed again. The already-tight set of his jaw tensed harder.

 _Get it over with_ , it said.

Well, first time for everything, right?

Giving no other warning, Gavin stuck his hand into the mess, giving a quiet groan when his already-smeared hand became covered with blue blood. The substance was almost unbearably hot and slippery, like trying to grab his way through oil. Finding the - what, could he call it a vein? - artificial vein, he pinched it between two of his fingers, hissing with relief as the blue blood stuttered, then stopped. Like putting a kink in a hose, the flow slowed to a stop.

The rhythmic beat-beat-beat of the android’s false(?) heart pumping at a fast clip, just beside his hand, was the worst of it. How did surgeons do this on a daily basis without going faint in the head?

Lying there without any equivalent of anesthetic, Noah’s taut expression gave another reigned-in spasm, mimed by the clawing clench of his fingers, clutching at the edge of his open torso. A sound between a whine and a groan eked out, despite his attempt to quash it. Apart from that, his damaged systems whirred and clicked of their own accord, muffled as the sounds were by all the excess liquid.

Christ. Was that supposed to happen? How was Gavin supposed to know?

“Are you - okay? Gonna be okay?” Gavin couldn't find it in himself to put some sarcastic edge on the words. Fuck playing disinterested, this was pretty concerning to him. “Just - nod. This is doing it right?”

One eye opened again, fluttering as it tried to refocus on him. Giving up the struggle after a few agonizing seconds, Noah managed a short downward half-nod.

Whether it was him playing up the damage or a sign of impending shutdown, he didn’t (or couldn’t) indicate.

Fucking androids. Never saying everything they meant at once. Reed would much rather be told how bad the bad news was than be strung along on vague hope, to think it wasn’t as bad as it looked, only to find out, “nope, guy, this tin can rookie you were just starting to maybe like is gonna bite it. Better luck next time.”

He wasn’t so inhuman he couldn’t admit to that burgeoning attachment.

“Oh, you better fuckin’ stay awake, Noah.” Gritting his teeth, Gavin peered over his face even more so over the android, his other hand raised threateningly. “I'm - I’m authorized to slap the shit out of you if you try and nod off.”

The other optic cracked open at the halfhearted threat. Both managed to lock onto his near-distraught face before suddenly shuttering.

_Sure, Detective, I’ll call that bluff._

The cheeky bastard.

“I warned you, motherfucker.” With that, Gavin brought his hand down on the side of Noah's face with some force, letting out a scoff as he did so. See if the fucker would listen to him now, huh?

This wasn’t a joke.

Decked, Noah uttered a wet gasp, eyes blinking back open. A fresh stream of blood ran from his nose. Sullenly, he glared sideways and up at his partner-turned-attacker.

“F-fi-ne.”

Right on time, there was the telltale whooshing flap of wings on approach. Circling the site, looking for a place to land, Gavin spotted one, then two sets flashing by an unfinished window.

His phone, with the call still connected, buzzed for attention.

“Finally. Shit, an ambulance woulda been faster,” he muttered, fumbling for his phone with his free hand, before putting it back up to his ear. “You're here? Just saw you two tin cans flyin’ over.”

_“You’re several floors up, Detective Reed. It took us a moment to ascertain which one.”_

With no more a warning than that, the wings circled back around. One portion of the floor was still open to the surrounding air. Bypassing the window once more, Dennis banked in for a landing, closely followed by Connor. The sparrow-winged android bore a first aid kit slung under one arm.

Trotting to a stop beside them, eying the now-dry trail of spilled thirium, of course his first impulse was to scoff. “Fuck’s sake, N, you really made a scene of your first ditch.”

Less given to sarcasm, in favor of reality, Connor dropped to his knees next to Gavin, nearly knocking the man aside with one ungainly wing, mindful enough not to step on the twisted ruin that was Noah’s left. His own expression creased with barely-contained distress. “This volume of loss, over so short a time - what happened?” Simultaneously, he laid a skinless hand over Noah’s forehead.

He didn’t really require an answer. The RK800’s sensors could glean all he needed to know with one scan.

“Fucker must have hit something to punch a hole like that.” Venting a sigh, Gavin didn't dare move his hand from where it was pinching whatever artificial vein was keeping Noah online.

“And his own forward momentum unwedged him from it just as it prevented more damage. Brutal enough without rolling to a stop.” Circling to the patient’s free right side, Dennis knelt. The kit made a subtle splash as it was set down. Hands going bare, he reached inside the open cavity. “We’ll handle it from here, Gavin. Stand back.”

“Ugh… sure.” Gavin removed his hand from Noah’s chest, quickly replaced as it was by Dennis’ more skilled fingers, stumbling back to his feet. Goddamn, thirium really fucking stayed on your hands, didn't it? Least it would fade after a bit.

Meanwhile, the thick coat of it adorning his skin immediately grew cold.

Brow still caught under Connor’s hand, Noah’s eyes tracked him as far back as they could rotate before rolling shut again.

——-

Construction workers were too goddamn nosy for their own good. It didn’t matter what part of their job site was momentarily under the DPD’s jurisdiction. The long and the short of it was they wouldn’t be going anywhere until Noah was patched up. There were still plenty of other points within the in-progress skyscraper that could be worked while Dennis and Connor made the repairs.

“Trust me, we’ll be out of your hair as soon as we’re able. And if you got a problem with that, call Captain Fowler at Central. He’ll be happy to back us up.”

Closing the rattling lift gate on the foreman’s face, Gavin punched the elevator button and sent them away for the time being.

He needed a smoke.

How long did it take to field patch a punctured thirium line, anyway? Neither attending RK had felt like giving him an update just yet. And it had to have been at least forty minutes since they had landed.

Giving another sigh, Gavin fished a lighter out of his jacket pocket first, before going for the pack. Perks of being a detective, not having to wear the dumbass uniforms like the beat cops. Not that he was probably supposed to be smoking on the job… who gave a shit? He just saw his partner bleeding out on the floor, literally shoved his hand into his chest.

What a way to further cement their working relationship.

Giving his arm another once over, Gavin rolled his eyes at the blue blood still coating it. Such a pleasant day this was shaping up to be.

He moved to flick the lighter -

“You don’t want to do that just yet, Detective. Thirium is flammable, even if semi-evaporated.”

“ _Shit._ Jesus Christ,” Gavin wheezed out, snatching the cigarette out of his mouth, before pocketing the lighter again. Least he was stopped from going up in flames. “Gonna give me a heart attack, too, huh? Kill us both off?”

One wing raised like a makeshift curtain, Connor lowered it far enough to peer back at him. Spooky fucker somehow knew he was about to light up without turning around. “That would be rather counterproductive.”

“That's one way to put it.” Giving him a glare, albeit one without the usual fuel, Gavin cleared his throat, trying to seem as casual as he could. “How, uh… how is he?”

Something like suspicion crossed Connor’s face before he answered. “In a temporary shutdown, for now. For losing almost sixty percent of his blood, that’s as optimal as we could’ve hoped for.” Pausing again, he let the other shoe drop. “The problem is in cleansing any contaminants from his lines. We’ve been working on inspecting all accessible filtration points.”

It was way too casual, the way he said it. Like they were only changing oil filters in a car or some mundane chore.

Weren’t they worried?

“Uh… okay. I'll pretend I understand that. So, basically he's in some kinda controlled coma? How _is_ he gonna be, then? Okay?”

“Yes. …I don’t know how much more specific you want us to be, Detective. The details only seem to befuddle you.”

Still hidden from view, Dennis scoffed. “And you ask as if it suddenly matters very much. Last I heard, you were worried Noah was slated as your replacement.”

Okay, maybe the gossip around the squad did say that. But like all rumors, it was proving to be a half truth at best. Noah was a rookie insofar as police work and in just day-to-day culture. CyberLife wouldn’t sign him over to the DPD without a phase-in period first.

And Reed certainly didn’t intend to quit or transfer any time soon. Was it that wrong, him warming up to the idea of an android partner?

“Sure. That's why I just sat there and tried to fuckin’ save his ass.” Maybe it was too harsh, bringing it up so soon, and maybe it was justified of Dennis to say that - but screw it. It was proving to be a rough day for everyone. “But sure, don't tell me.”

At that Connor raised an eyebrow, glancing back his operating partner, then he promptly refolded his wing.

Gavin almost wished he had left the curtain up.

Noah’s opened chest had been suctioned clean, revealing a maze of blue-stained hoses and circuits. A few new clamps had been affixed to his torn lines. Diodes connected to cables leading to a portable field EKG (or that’s what the collapsible unit could have passed for). Holographic screens rotated above its projecting lens.

But his heart did seem to be beating far more calmly than before.

Because a flair for cheekiness ran in their ‘family’, Connor frowned at him for effect. “Show, don’t tell, in other words?”

“Sure, fine. You got it.” Crossing his arms, Gavin looked away from them again. “Just fuckin’ asking if he's gonna be okay.”

“Your concern is as appreciated as it is unexpected, Reed.” Still bristling, Dennis’ focus went back to his work. “You’ll have to excuse our disbelief.”

“Unexpected?” Gavin echoed the word with a scoff. “Like I would just let my partner bleed out. What, you thought I was gonna point and laugh, as well?”

Dabbing up another pocket of pooled blood, Dennis offered no more affirmative than a small scowl.

Connor, in comparison, was apparently more receptive to the idea. He took another more studious look at Gavin, checking vitals as much as appreciating how stressful the ordeal was proving to be for the man.

“It wouldn’t be without precedent, Detective Reed. Again, you’ll have to pardon our behavior. We can only react based on what we’ve seen.”

That was true enough. And for the most part, they hadn’t seen just how well he and Noah had been getting along. All they knew were several successful arrests, told to them after the fact. This was the so-far-only time in which they had been called for any kind of assistance.

Firsts for everybody.

Gavin wiped a hand down his face, trying to let out any excess anger and adrenaline that he could in one aggravated gesture. It wasn't exactly fair, him getting pissed off at the two of them for their assumptions that, not too far back, would have been true. But he was anyways. He had always had a temper. That wasn’t about to change, no matter latent allowances.

“Sure, sure. Sounds just fantastic to me. Remind me, next time I'll walk away. Or record myself laughing, whichever one sounds better.”

“Oh, why waste time deciding? Just do both.” Dennis muttered under his breath, but not so quietly it went unheard. “It wouldn’t be the first time Noah has been let down.”

Now that rankled. Just because CyberLife was so crass and thoughtless to effectively kick their newest, most-advanced prototype out of the nest and assume it could fend for itself made it comparable to the initial mistreatment Gavin had exhibited toward Nines?

If he recalled correctly, the first time they met, Noah had slapped the back of his head. And in the weeks that followed, he only became more and more ostracized from his fellow RKs, intentionally and not. As the Sindino case expanded in scope, and an unsavory degree of corruption within the DPD exposed, the personal dynamics between all of those involved suffered.

That was three months ago. Hadn’t Reed proved himself tolerating, especially in these circumstances?

“Fuck you, Dents. You’re one to talk.”

“Am I?”

“Fuck yeah, you are. I think I lost count, the number of times the two of you did somethin’ shitty to Noah, makin’ him feel all kinds of unwelcome. Maybe I'm surprised you even showed up here in the first place. Ever _factor_ that in?” If Dennis weren’t elbow-deep in said android’s biocomponents, Gavin wouldn’t have hesitated to slug him, protocol (and personal safety) be damned. “Just because you don’t expect me to have a shred of decency doesn’t mean you get to walk all over - ”

A high-pitched tone interrupted him mid-rant, and it was probably for the better.

Before he said something along the lines of how much good having Noah around was doing for both of them. That was just sappy, too sincere for the likes of Gavin Reed.

Booting up, Noah managed to put a stop to the budding argument with one near-pleading look between them. The fluttery eyelids and unfocused gaze were gone, replaced by lucidity and anxiety. He looked better and worse off all at the same time.

“W-what’s g-going on?”

“Aw, _fuck_ \- nothin’, Noah, don't worry yourself.” Gavin took a hesitant step toward him, automatically dropping to a half-crouch to be more level with him. “Least you stopped bleedin’, huh? I don't understand too much of this fancy computer talk, but I think these two are trying to tell me you're gonna be okay.”

“I… I crashed?” Seemingly too lost in his short term recollection, Noah didn’t attempt to move. Dennis mutely resumed sponging. “There’s a - a new gap in my memory drive, Detective. I lost the suspect, but after that I… I don’t recall.”

That could either be the trauma, or some deliberate deletion of files. Androids could pull such kinds of measures on each other. If it was the latter, and that was what Connor meant by ‘okay’...

“Shit. Maybe that's for the best. Not gonna lie, I would find it pretty traumatic to have to have someone reach inside my chest.” Shaking his head, Gavin narrowed his eyes at Noah, looking for any other signs of discomfort, or anything like it. “But yeah, you took a dive, and not a pretty one at that.”

The reminders were still littered all over his face. Instead of freckles like Connor boasted, Noah’s (current) imperfections amounted to several shallow cuts and scrapes. One larger gash at the corner of his mouth pulled as he scowled in confusion.

Giving up the fruitless search, he let his head fall back. Dried thirium crunched under his stiffened, black locks of hair. His LED cooled from yellow back to blue. “I crashed. That’s… embarrassing.”

Rookie or not, the RK900 had his own kind of pride. And it was in pieces.

“Pfft. Trust me, I'll listen to you go on and on about how embarrassing this was for you later, but not right now, lookin’ the way you are. We've got some bigger concerns on our hands.”

That was as close to an open admission of concern for his partner, to his face, that Gavin would chance. Not with the two sourfaced RKs playing Doctor Discredit and Nurse Negative.

Sparing his opened chest panels one forlorn look, Noah scoffed. Even if it was more of a weak sniff, it was just the kind of tic he would adopt after hanging around Gavin long enough.

“I’m sorry. I failed. It won’t happen again.”

“Shut up, if you're gonna talk like that.” Giving him an eye roll, Gavin tried to play off his own concern with some feigned casualness. No need to freak Noah out even more with his own lapse of emotions.

Eyes a touch wider than normal, Noah only blinked at the light tap to the temple Gavin dealt him.

“Only you, apologizing for failin’, after what you went through.”

At that Connor favored the detective with a very sideways look, but thankfully he kept mum on the topic.

Noah wasn’t the only one of his ilk to take issue with failure.

By that account, Connor owed them one for later.


End file.
